


Fool's Gold

by Polomonkey



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 2016 Summer Olympics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Disability, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Humor, M/M, Merlin Olympics, Misunderstandings, Paralympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 04:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7830427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/pseuds/Polomonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's match day for Merlin and Arthur, Team GB's finest boccia pair. But Arthur can't concentrate on the game when his head is full of what he saw last night...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fool's Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Merlin Olympics](http://merlinolympics.livejournal.com/) fest and based on [this](http://merlinolympics.livejournal.com/19469.html?thread=150797#t150797) prompt by the lovely ArgentSleeper, except I switched Merlin and Arthur around. Also fills my 'taking care of somebody' square on h/c bingo.
> 
> Boccia is a paralympic sport where players throw balls at a central 'jack' ball and at the end the person who threw the balls closest to the jack wins. It can be played in teams, singly, or in pairs. Merlin and Arthur are a pair in this fic and in the BC4 category, which is for players with locomotor dysfunction who can throw the ball unassisted on court. You can find out more about boccia [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boccia) and [here](http://gb-boccia.org/).

_It’s Pendragon to throw first and he’s not looking as confident as we’ve come to expect in these games, it has to be said. Last minute nerves, perhaps? It’s a marked contrast from the assured performance we saw from him and Emrys in the heats._

They get the red balls in the coin toss; Arthur’s favourite colour. Merlin prefers blue. Normally this would be the point where their eyes would meet and Merlin would sigh dramatically, sticking his tongue out in response to Arthur’s smirk.

Arthur can’t even look at Merlin today. His partner on the boccia court and his partner off it, although he’s not so sure about that last one anymore. Not since last night.

He can feel the hurt radiating off Merlin. He doesn’t know why he’s being ignored. He doesn’t know that Arthur saw him last night. He doesn’t know it’s all over.

Arthur can never stay mad at Merlin usually. They argue, like any couple, but they always come back to each other. And when Arthur’s grumpy, or tired, or stressed out, only Merlin can cheer him up. Something in his smile, his laugh, the tone of voice he uses when he senses Arthur’s feeling delicate… it calms Arthur like no-one else can.

His coach Elyan disapproved when they started dating. He thought a relationship would distract Arthur from the game. He admitted he’d had to eat his words after they took Gold in the European Team and Pairs Championship.

They were the best BC4 pair in the U.K., and a good few other countries beside. Brazil and Korea were looking strong this year but Arthur had been confident that Gold was his and Merlin’s for the taking.

Until now. How can he win with Merlin when he can’t think about anything but what he saw last night?

 

_Ooh! That’s not the best we’ve seen from Pendragon in this competition, it has to be said. Oliveira is watching closely; you can be sure she’ll take advantage of any weakness she sees and it’s looking like the GB pair are not quite on form today._

 

Arthur has a rule. No sex before a match day. Neither of them can afford to be tired or lose their concentration.

In truth, Arthur’s a zombie without a solid eight hours of sleep a night but Merlin only needs about five or six. Thus, inevitably, he spends half his life trying to wheedle his way around this rule. He’s surprisingly good at finding loopholes but Arthur’s put his foot down in Rio.

“Stop batting your lashes, Merlin, you look like someone’s poked you in the eye.”

“Speaking of poking…”

“Wow, such a seductive turn of phrase.”

“Come onnn!” Merlin whines but Arthur’s already wheeling down the corridor.

“See you tomorrow, lover! Bright eyed and bushy tailed!” 

“I’m gonna stay up all night, just to spite you!” Merlin calls but Arthur just flicks him the finger and disappears round the corner.

He takes his own advice and goes straight to bed but wakes up only two hours later, sweating and panting from a nightmare. Arthur used to always have nightmares before a match day but it hadn’t happened in nearly a year. He can never remember them when he wakes up but he’s always left with a sense of crushing failure; the certainty that he’s disappointed Elyan, Merlin, himself…

Arthur’s been anxious all his life. Afraid of abandonment, afraid of letting people down. Afraid he isn’t good enough as he is. Boccia changed all that for him. He played his first game at sixteen and the thrill was there from the start; the intensity of focussing on a move, the strategy of dislodging another player’s throw, the rush of euphoria that comes from tapping the jack ball just right. He found a club to join the very next day.

The concentration it required put other thoughts out of Arthur’s head, if only for a few hours at a time. He started to look forward to practice; a time when he could quiet his whirling brain and think only about the next move of the game.

The anxiety didn’t leave him but it dissipated slightly. Long nights spent awake worrying became long nights spent thinking out match strategies. The fear of being left alone was replaced by the joy of companionship, as he made new friends and acquaintances in the boccia circuit. At twenty two he was by no means anxiety free, but his coping methods were better than they’d ever been in his life.

He met Merlin that year. At a friendly organised with a team a county over. Arthur had gone into the match thinking how annoying the dark haired guy with the goofy laugh was, and had left the match thinking he’d go completely mad if he didn’t find a way to ask that guy out.

It took nearly two years for Arthur to ever do that though. Long enough for Merlin to move to his county, long enough for them to start playing as a pair, long enough for Elena to inform them that she wanted the two of them to try out for the Paralympics. They’d gone for a drink together that night, Elena’s words ringing in their heads, both giddy and nervous about the possibility. Then Arthur had said something about them making a good enough team to give it a shot. And Merlin had said something about them being a good pair on and off the court. And then it was a bit of a haze as to who had pressed their lips to the other’s first, although in later years both would claim the credit for themselves.

Arthur’s been happy since then. On meds for the anxiety. Learning to talk about his feelings a little more. Training hard but never pushing himself over the edge, because his partner’s always there to ground him.

Merlin looks after him. That’s the plain and simple truth of it. Some days Arthur can’t remember what his life was like before they were together but he knows it was lacking somehow, because Merlin wasn’t in it.

And he needs Merlin right now, the way he always does after a nightmare. Arthur doesn’t want to break his no sex rule but he does want to be held by his lover, to fall asleep in his arms. He knows Merlin won’t mind, he probably won’t have drifted off yet. He especially won’t mind if he knows Arthur needs reassurance.

He manoeuvres into his chair and heads down the corridor, suddenly desperate to see Merlin. He’s momentarily pleased when he hears voices inside the room, because it means he won’t be waking Merlin up. Then he listens a little closer and his stomach starts twisting.

“Hey, shh, you’ll wake everyone! Come here.”

That’s Merlin’s voice.

“I can’t believe this is finally happening.”

It takes Arthur a moment to place the gentle Welsh accent and then he realises it’s Mordred, their BC1 teammate’s court assistant.

Why is Mordred in Merlin’s room?

He’s an attractive man. Arthur had been joking only the day before that he might go off with Mordred, as he looked a bit like a younger Merlin. And then Merlin had said, well maybe I’ll leave you for him.

Arthur’s stomach knots further.

There’s no reason for Mordred to be in Merlin’s room, especially not this late.

But no, he’s being paranoid. There’s nothing going on…

“Merlin, I have genuinely been waiting so long for-oh oh!”

There’s a crashing sound and a quiet groan and then Mordred giggles, a high pitched sound.

“Merlin! I’m not that kind of boy!”

Arthur doesn’t hear what Merlin replies because his heart is pounding too loud in his ears. He inserts Merlin’s spare key card into the slot, trying to be as quiet as possible.

He opens the door just a crack, sees Merlin by the bed, still in his chair. And Mordred is…

Mordred is sat on his lap.

Merlin’s hand is on Mordred’s back and his face is hidden from Arthur’s view. But Arthur can see Mordred perfectly clearly; the grin on his face, like he’s the cat that got the cream.

It’s enough for Arthur. It’s more than enough and he thinks he’ll be sick if he stays another second. He moves backwards, closing the door with a quiet click.

Arthur doesn’t have any more nightmares that night. Because he doesn’t sleep at all.

_The referee is calling a time out… seems there’s a problem with Oliveira’s right wheel. Her coach is bringing the kit on now, looks like we’ll be taking a short break. Team GB is requesting to leave the court while the repair takes place, perhaps a quick breather will give them a chance to regroup…_

 

Arthur shakes his head at Elyan as he makes to follow him off the court. His coach has known him long enough to read his looks, and this isn’t the first time Arthur’s made a silent plea for a bit of time and space.

Elyan doesn’t follow, albeit reluctantly. Arthur imagines he wants to rant and rave right now, ask Arthur what the hell he thinks he’s doing out there.

Arthur can’t answer that question. He can’t think of anything beyond Merlin’s hand at the small of Mordred’s back, the way Mordred giggled and leaned into Merlin’s chest…

He has to get away, to think for a moment. But someone has followed him out and it’s not Elyan.

“Arthur? Arthur? Are you alright? Talk to me.”

Merlin sounds frantic and it makes Arthur feel ill. He wheels away, not ready to have this conversation. They have a match to win, Christ, why can’t he get it together?

He’s forced to stop only five seconds later when Merlin very deliberately rams his chair into Arthur’s path.

“Dick move, I know, but I’m not letting you skip out on me.”

Merlin’s eyes are blazing with barely concealed rage.

“What is going on out there? You are throwing this match and I have no idea why!”

Arthur sets his mouth in a hard thin line.

“I’m sorry. I’ll pull it back for us.”

His voice is completely toneless and Merlin narrows his eyes. It’s a familiar, knowing look.

“You’re mad at me.”

He lets out a shaky laugh.

“Why? What could I have possibly done, Arthur?”

Merlin looks so upset that Arthur almost wants to forget about the whole thing but the taste of betrayal is hot and sharp in his mouth still and he can’t let this go.

“I saw you last night,” he says.

“Last night? What are you talking about?”

“I saw you. With…” Arthur struggles to gain control of his voice for a second. “With Mordred.”

Merlin looks nonplussed.

“Mordred? When was… I didn’t see you there.”

“I know you didn’t,” Arthur says, voice thick. “I don’t think even you could be awful enough to cheat right in front of me.”

The colour drains from Merlin’s face.

“Cheat? I- I-“

Merlin never expected to be caught. Arthur can read it in his expression. He looks shocked to the core.

“I had a nightmare. I came to your room because I wanted to-”

Arthur breaks off, tears pricking at his eyes. It’s suddenly too unbearable to be here, to be doing this.

“We have to get back to the match.”

“Fuck the match!” Merlin says and Arthur jumps a little, because Merlin hardly ever swears. “You don’t really think I cheated on you?”

The hurt in his tone is almost convincing.

“He was all over you, Merlin,” Arthur says, so weary and worn out that he suddenly doesn’t know if he can go back out there at all. His motivation is gone. He wanted to win for Merlin and it’s all meaningless now it’s over between them.

“Arthur, I don’t know what you think you saw-”

“Oh, don’t. He was sat in your lap. Leaning into you-”

“He fell in my lap,” Merlin says. “He was drunk-”

“How stupid do you think I am?” Arthur scoffs, although the crack in his voice belies the surety of his tone.

“He was drunk because he was celebrating-”

“Just stop,” Arthur says and it comes out more like a plea than he would like. He just wants to be home now, back in England, back in his own bed, far away from Merlin and this whole wretched day.

“Arthur. Arthur,” Merlin says, his voice soft and insistent. “Listen to me. He was drunk because he was celebrating his engagement. To his girlfriend Kara. A.k.a. his childhood sweetheart and the love of his life. And he drank too much and fell on me and then apologised and went off to bed.”

Merlin sucks in a deep breath.

“But even if he had stripped naked and offered himself to me on a plate, I wouldn’t have been interested. Because I’m in love with you and you know this. You know this, Arthur.”

The tears are spilling down Arthur’s face.

“I don’t-”

“You know this,” Merlin says again, gentle, firm.

And suddenly Arthur does.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Oh God, Merlin, I’m so-”

“It’s alright. It’s okay. We can- we can talk about this properly. But for now, it’s all okay, do you understand me?”

But it’s not, it’s not okay at all. Because…

“I lost us the match,” Arthur whispers, guilt and shame clogging his chest.

“Excuse me?” Merlin says, managing a smile even though tears are shining in his eyes. “Did I miss the medal ceremony? Because I’m pretty sure this match isn’t over yet.”

There’s a distant roar of applause and Arthur realises Oliveira’s chair must be fixed.

“We have to get back in,” he says, all at once desperate to return to the court and finish what they started.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“That’s the second time you’ve sworn today,” Arthur says, feeling a familiar affectionate ache.

“I’ll be doing a lot more bloody swearing at you later for being such an idiot but right now we need to go win that match!”

“Yes,” Arthur says, wiping at his eyes. “Yes. I love you. Yes.”

 

_After an uncertain start, Pendragon and Emrys have bounced back in the third end and it could be anyone’s game as we head into the final round…_

They take Silver in the end. It’s hard to be disappointed when they see how excited the Brazilian pair are to take Gold, on their own home turf.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t win it for you,” Arthur says in bed that night, when they’re lying curled into each other.

Merlin smiles.

“They were better. Even without your little hissy fit, they were better. Can’t argue with that.”

“Well… I’m sorry about doubting you too.”

“Don’t worry, I’m only going to hold it over your head forever.”

“Oh good, something to look forward to.”

Merlin must catch how brittle Arthur’s tone is, because he tucks his head into Arthur’s chest and sighs.

“No more sorries. Do something else for me instead. Don’t forget how much I love you again. Never forget that.”

“I won’t,” Arthur says, as much a vow to himself as anything else. “You… you take care of me. You always have.”

“And I always will,” Merlin says, and his voice is a quiet promise. “If you’ll let me.”

“I will,” Arthur says, suddenly overwhelmed by how safe he feels, cocooned in Merlin’s love.

“Good,” Merlin mumbles, on the verge of sleep. “Oh, and if we make it to Toyko in 2020? We’re sharing a hotel room.”

“Agreed,” Arthur says and presses a kiss to Merlin’s head before letting himself drift off.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Do check out the other fest entries :)
> 
> Also if you haven't treated yourself already, check out the [UK Paralympics trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IocLkk3aYlk), it is a sheer delight!


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